A Special Case
by Heavenly Divine
Summary: Santana is currently an officer in Lima, Ohio. She wanted to be a singer, a star, but life happened. Brittany is a high profile criminal, wanted in 4 continents, with out of this world imagination, and creator of what may be the most dangerous drug to ever exist. When Santana is assigned as the low-profile cop to capture her, how will the two interact with one another? R&R Please.
1. Chapter 1

A/N

This is my first …anything, fanfiction, attempt at putting thing up literature-wise online…so yeah. I'm a complete amateur and I crave constructive criticism. Enjoy whatever lies below my fellow shippers.

:D

Links- Tell me if they don't work: (Change the first p in pttp to an 'h' and the first p in ppg to a 'j' for both links)

Santana's Uniform (Imagine it on a girl. XP)-

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Brittany's Ride-

. /2010/04/07/1293282/FordGTHO2_

_Thoughts are in italics_

P.S – My inspiration came in part from the song Mrs. Officer by Lil Wayne...yeah…lol

Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with FOX, Glee, any of the people that are part of the "crew", or any of the actors/actresses mentioned in this story. I am not making profit in any way from this.

"- the details on Pierce are in the email I sent you. Also, be careful. She is manipulative…Officer Lopez, do you copy?" the question snapped Santana out of her daydream of going home and enjoying the carnitas and spicy tamale soup she was planning on preparing tonight , quickly blinking away her confusion she picks up her dispatcher and replies, "Yes. I'll be on the lookout for this….Britney Spears person?"

A sigh comes from her lieutenant from her mocking tone, "Brittany. Pierce." He quipped, clearly not amused. She shrugs a small smirk on her face from her little joke. "We had a source give us a concrete lead on her and she is due to pass by you in about 2 hours. Read your email immediately. This is serious, Lopez. Over."

The officer just rolls her eyes, checking her appearance in the mirror and running her fingers through her inky black hair, before saying a quick reply into the walkie. The girl looks around the dinky car repair shop she's stopped in front of to pay "full attention" to the details on this _special_ objective for her. She honestly doesn't know why they couldn't let someone else do this. If this criminal was really as badass as they say then how come they didn't send a big shot F.B.I dude to handle it and not some small town Ohio cop.

Reglossing her lips in the reflection of the rearview mirror, "This is probably the most action this crappy little town has gotten in 50 years," she murmurs glancing out the window at the nearly empty streets and small shops. The girl concludes this whole thing has been exaggerated by the small minded people here. Putting her makeup in her glove box and pushing her aviators down from her hair onto her nose, she remembers her email and begrudgingly starts up the slow computer nestled in the spot where the radio should be. Another reason it's hard to _not_ be bored when she has to be posted somewhere.

About 10 minutes later, she is reading her email and she doesn't think her eyebrows have raised this high since she found out Manhands and Pillsbury Slowboy were getting hitched in high school _and _wanted her to be a bridesmaid. Blowing out her breath she begins to feel a bit nervous. What if this is truly a huge problem she is responsible for? _I mean this is some T.V show shit right here._ Going over her email again she lets her dark brown orbs linger on the words, "largest drug lord in North America, only second to Ricardo Paschinas who is supposedly in hiding in Brazil." Nibbling her lip she cuts her eyes to the sign above the shop, _why would a criminal that huge want to come to Hummel's Tires and Lube for_, she thinks. Looking at the time she stiffens, only around an hour left. Scrolling down she reads the description of said drug lord.

Her jaw has never dropped so fast. _Blonde, tall, slim and toned, female. Defining features: seems to have infatuation with ducks, pandas, (Lord Tubbington), and unicorns. Attitude: seems innocent and odd but upon further speculation is decidedly intelligent. Transportation: car changes every day, usually is found on the side of the road; deserted. Also travels by jet._

_Brittany S. Pierce is the most wanted criminal in America since 1936. In short, her along with a few accomplices have created a new drug that causes heightened senses and accelerated thinking. The drug supposedly cures autism and some forms of cancer. Brittany and 4 others were first targeted by federal police when caught slipping doses to hospital patients on October 3, 2011. The patients were tested and though diseased patients only improved mentally, mentally challenged and cancerous patients were cured physically and improved mentally. Side effects of drug are unknown and this could in fact be a form of terrorism. Since then the drug has been traded in the black market but has not yet been picked up by ordinary street drug dealers. The money this group has made is unknown but is estimated to be around 800 million dollars that year. _

"Holy Fuck," Santana breathes. A link was provided at the bottom of the page. Adjusting her position in her seat she contemplates clicking the link but seeing as her mind has already been fried, she's not sure if she can handle anything else right now. The information is turning around in her head and she can't bring herself to form an opinion on what she's read except that its… a big deal and if she's being truthful kind of amazing.

Starting her police car, she hibernates her computer, and pulls out of the parking lot of the shop. She drives to the back of the building and slightly off the road to hide the car behind some shrubbery. She convinces herself it's for her cover and not because she's terrified right now. Cutting her engine, she turns on her personal walkie and steps out of the car. Running her hands down her uniform she straightens her shirt and pants, tightens her holster belt and runs a finger over her Taser, going through a mental checklist. Looking down her side at her two pairs of handcuffs, she then pats her gun and lastly she looks in the reflection of her window. She nods her head; she knows is one of the few officers that can pull off this uniform. Checking her watch the person is supposed to turn up in 15 minutes, frowning she contemplates calling Puck, her fellow officer, and telling him that she can't do this. Rolling her shoulders, she thinks of her strengths. She's badass and all and.. impressively strong for her size, not to mention her aim is ridiculously good.

"I'm Santana Lopez. I'm hot, fearless, and….terrified." She shakes her head wondering for not the first time how she ended up doing this as a career. It was just supposed to be a hold over job until she could afford to attend school in New York to become a famous singer and performer and now, this. She doesn't think she can wrap her mind around this situation under the pressure but what she does know is that she needs to do what she can; she also doesn't let her mind wonder to the ramifications of if she fails this mission. She may not care about this job but she does care about her rep and people's lives.

Leaning against her car, she lets her mind wonder back to link. She can't help but wonder what she's really up against….or that's what she tells herself.

2 minutes later she is starting up her computer again, tapping her fingers on the wheel and twirling the end of ponytail around her finger as she waits for Windows to resume. Soon enough the link is there in front of her, she hovers the mouse over it before clicking it.

A picture of the blonde is shown in high quality, slowly revealing itself from top to bottom. The plain white background with her name, height, and weight printed to right convinces her that this is "Brittany's" most wanted picture. Blonde hair is beginning to show and Santana cusses at the sluggishness of the computer. Every inch that slowly loads makes her more and more impatient to see the woman. A smooth pale forehead is shown before her eyebrows are. Next are her eyes, which cause Santana to inhale swiftly. They were…extraordinary. She finds herself staring at them so long she doesn't notice the rest of the picture loading. Unwillingly she lets herself admit that they are the most perfect, brilliant blue she's ever seen, dropping her eyes down she sees a straight nose sprinkled with freckles and smiling pink lips underneath. Shifting her eyes to her cheeks, freckles were also sprinkled lightly there. Pearly white teeth are displayed with the sharp points of her canines just above her slightly fuller bottom lip. Staring at her face, Santana swallows thickly. At the corner of the blondes upper lip was a small mole. _…Fuck. _Pressing the down arrow, the column of girl's pale neck is shown and Santana's eyebrows furrow as she studies the image. A deep looking single red scratch mares the left side of the girl's neck which continues down her chest and into the tattered collar of her tanktop, scrolling down to the bottom of the page the complete damage to the shirt is exposed. Small holes and loose strings littered the sides of her shirt near her ribs and a large rip exhibited the girl's abs with a newly formed bruise beside her bellybutton. Long pale fingers with rainbow nails gripped the hem of the obscenely short shorts the blonde donned and the officer could not stop her eyes from tracing up the girl's frame, to her trim arms and down her toned legs. Lastly, the Latina's eyes come to rest on the girl's feet that appear to be clad in some sort of house shoes that have panda heads attached. _Weird, she doesn't look like a perp. She looks like a model._

Taking a long blink to process what she'd seen, the officer closed the window and flopped back into her seat. _It's pretty rare I see someone who I think is hotter than me…but damn, she gives me a run for my money. I think I maybe could take her, with a taser, because her muscles are a bit intimidating and from her height she has a good 4 inches on me, pretty tall for a woman. Instead of leering, I should be analyzing this situation the best that I can, this…woman could truly be dangerous, and if so it's pretty sick to use people as guinea pigs, especially when they are already with an ailment. _Straightening her shoulders, Santana gathers her professionalism, pride, and confidence. Glancing at the clock she realizes the suspect is due to arrive in around 3 minutes and as her mind tries to relapse into disbelief and panic, even a hint of nervousness?... a sense of responsibility washes over her and she composes herself.

Grabbing her dispatcher she updates her lieutenant, knowing he was probably pulling out the few hairs he does have out waiting on her confirmations. "Lopez- Code: 10-84, and I need verification on if I need a 10-85 or should be prepared for a 10-88?"

Holding onto the dispatcher Santana exits the car peering through the brush for any vehicles nearing Burt's shop. Nibbling her lip, she ponders a way to either gather information or arrest her, obviously it's not going to be easy if she hasn't been captured yet.

"Unfortunately you need to be ready for anything, but I have squad posted adjacent to the Wal-Mart on Pine Lane so if we have an 88 then try to lead her there" The brunette nods her head, he continues, "also please just do _whatever_ you can to get anything on this perp. The entire force is at a loss on how to get a handle on this situation. Which is usually common with an OC but this is one of the biggest since the 1940's"

"Copy, Loo. I'll do my best. Do you I need to use my number now?" "Yeah."

She waited for him to repeat her number to her but all she received was silence. Impatiently she squinted; she didn't want to be talking when the perp arrived.

"You know the worst thing that happens in this town is petty shoplifting and tows, so…you know I don't remember my number right?"

A chuckle could be heard over the receiver "098."

"Copy." Putting the walkie back in its slot she cut the engine of her car and pocketed the keys. Closing the door, she walks to the edge of the tree line and turns on her portable walkie. "098, 098, 098," She mumbles to herself quietly.

Jolting, she remember the notepad the resides on her belt, pulling it out she jots down the 3 numbers before tires on gravel cause her narrowed eyes to turn to the driveway. Placing the notepad back on her belt, the brunette immediately takes in the vehicle itself.

Her jaw absolutely drops.

She takes a moment to appreciate the car. Raising her eyebrows she eyes the car. "Nice." She drawls. Furrowing her eyebrows notices it looks somewhat familiar; she goes through her mind trying to name the car on instinct, a habit she gained from hanging around her older brothers, as she observes the body and shape of the car. Popping a piece of gum into her mouth, she chews slowly.

…_this is definitely a Ford Falcon, but I'm not sure if it's a GTHO or a GTHT but its headlights are too modern. And it's too wide to be a Phase 2…so a Phase 3? Who even has….must be some collector, Phase 3's are only in Australia and Europe right now. _Shaking her head, she huffs. _That's a damn nice car. _The Officer frowns at her lack of concentration and shifts her eyes around in fear that during her eyesex with the car she missed other cars passing.

Not hearing any other sounds, satisfied, Santana looks back to the Falcon, tilting her head as she tries to catch a glance of who is behind the wheel. Expecting the typical collector, an aged man, her eyes widen impossibly as a shock of long blonde hair and a smooth pale face invade her vision.

Realizing who is behind the wheel, hyperventilating, the Latina snatches at her dispatcher, "I have an 86, Loo. At 5:06." "Copy," is uttered quickly back at her.

Clenching her fists, she stares at the car, the side windows are tinted but she can make out movement. Stiffening, watches silently as the car parks near the front, just out of her sight. Easing out of her hiding spot behind a tree, she walks briskly around the back of the building to peer around the side. Now that she is closer, she can hear…laughter? Straining her ears she hears what sounds like someone singing badly over music. Just as she is about the inch closer to crouch behind a vending machine, the music stops and the purring of the engine ends abruptly.

_Jesus. Don't let them come over this way._

Gulping, nearly swallowing her gum, the officer shifts to press her back against the wall just before 3 cars doors are opened and closed, feeling adrenaline seep through her veins; her logic, shaky from nervousness, becomes sharper.

_I need to check her car out._

Light chatter that she can't make out gently ebbs away as the suspected 3 people enter the garage, only a couple words can be discerned.

"-Kurt and Burt rhyme I just noticed that-", "-stuff works-", "-excited, right? -", "-bacon-"

Santana can't make sense of the words. When the talking can no longer be heard she waits a few beats before she decides to make her move for the car. Running as quietly as she could across gravel, she approaches the car and crouches. Raising slightly the determined officer attempts to look out the window shes next to, but its tint doesn't allow her to see the other side. Frowning she slowly moves to close to the trunk of the car and peers over the side.

_Thank God. All Clear._

Keeping her eyes on the empty garage, she reasons they must have went inside the shop. She takes her walkie off of her belt and whispers. "098 here. I need a 10-84."

"Copy." Flinching she turns the volume down on her device. Her eyes dart around making sure no was around before, she crouches back down and leans to read the license plate number.

"934-UN1" I read. Pressing down the button I repeat the numbers into the dispatcher. "State?"

I look above the numbers. "Loo, it only says ACT."

For a couple moments all that could be heard was the window blowing, habitually she started chewing on her gum, wishing he could hurry up. Santana knew his computer was probably just as slow as hers.

"-Alright, Purty Burty." A deep laugh could be heard. "Thank you like..so much. This was literally the only place I could go in America for help with Sugar."

Santana's eyes widened. They were nearing the door. Scrambling up, she frantically looked for a place to remain undiscovered. Pressing her lips together she looked at the space between the car and ground. Wincing as she looked towards the garage, considering just running back to her cherry top. As the creak of the door sounded, the wide-eyed girl scurried underneath the car.

Breathing hard, she squeezes her eyes tight and says a small prayer. She had no idea what these people are truly capable of. They could capture her and do experiment on her. A shudder runs down her back. Panting she stares at the door from her limited perspective, the door opens and a pair of worn boots come into sight.

…._hold on. Burt knows her? Why hasn't he turned her in? I need to talk to him a.s.a.p. I can't believe he's participating in helping her…_

Next a pair of flawless boots appears beside the worn ones, it's obviously Kurt, Burt's son, who is gayer than anything…ever. 3 pairs of shoes appear after, a pair of cutesy polka dot flats, black and white converse, and a pair of semi-formal shoes.

"Well, Lets go, guys. You know we can't really be anywhere for too long." I laid back female voice sounded out, seemingly coming from the direction of the flats.

"Puh-lease. I think we're pretty safe in _"Lama-a" _Ohio." The dude in the formal shoes responds.

Everyone seems to laugh at that before a quiet but sensual voice chipped in, flawless, sounding as if the person was either right on the cusp of hoarseness or huskiness. Brown eyes cut to the converse and stared. It was her.

The conversation could hardly be heard over Santana's pounding heart. A few more words were spoken and a couple thank you's were exchanges, mostly from the quiet voice before the shoes shuffled away and all that remained was the lone pair of converse sneakers.

When Burt's car pulled out of the driveway, the shoes still remained and she grew paranoid.

_Does she know I'm here?_

After around a minute, the shoes turned and went back into the building. "Need my keys.." the girl thought out loud.

Santana frowned.

….oh no.

As soon as the door closed, Santana wriggled and tried the drag herself from underneath the car. Beads of sweat were beginning to form on her neck from the heat beneath the car, at the exact moment she was about to roll from under the car. Static screeched from her walkie. Gasping her fumbling hands reach under herself to turn it off, but there isn't enough room to slide her hand down.

"098?" She grimaces. "Vehicle is in fact, stolen. It is under the name Heather Morris, though it hasn't been reported missing. Over."

Painfully, Santana turns onto her back, gravel digging into her spine and palms as she does so. Reaching down, the frantic girl cuts the switch on her walkie, taking a damp, hot breath.

_Finally._ She thinks.

But then, the door opens and the converse shoes are walking briskly across the threshold.

Santana's heart stops and she holds her breath, praying. She's never been this terrified.

"…yeah, that's why I said we should meet her from now on. Like no one comes over here…I think its because they don't want to catch the gay from Kurt, or something." Keeping her eyes on the shoes, she reasons the girl must be on the phone and she's also just got a lead on apparently one of their headquarters. Light babble sounds from supposedly the girl's phone before she responds, walking towards the car.

Santana bites her lip, looking at the pipes above her. "I'm not sure when I'll meet you guys, probably around 10:00 pm. I still can't really tell time." A pause. "I haven't learned that yet, I'm more focused on our main goal…I'm still developing." "Can you please stop talking so loud, Sugar is sick and she says you're yelling is making her feel worse and you know the worse she feels the longer it takes to fix her." Another longer pause follows, until the criminal hangs up.

"They just don't get my focus, Sugar. But lets not focus on the bad things only the good. Lets get you fixed up, you have a cold." Bewildered, Santana's lips press into a straight line…_Is she talking to her car? Or is this code talk or something? I'm making note of this._

The car door opens, snapping her back to reality, that she's about to get ran over. Not knowing what else to do, Santana clamps her hands onto the hot pipes above then connects her feet as well, pulling herself up off the car. Shaking with muscle tension and fright, the officer clenches her limbs tighter as the engine starts. The car begins backing out of the parking space and Santana feels hot air on her fingers, the pipes are getting warmer, but she can't let go.

_Dios mio. Mami. If you are watching over me in heaven. Ayudame. Por favor. I can't keep this up for long._

Turning the car heads in the direction of the open garage, parking inside. Santana breathes a sigh of relief. Yet she was too afraid to let go even after the ignition was cut. She could hear shuffling within the car, and then the girl swung the door open and got out, closing it behind her. The shoes walked away from the car in the direction of a tool box that rested on the ground beside some tires. Crouching the perp snatched up the tool box quickly and placed it on a rolling cart. The cart was pushed towards the car then the shoes disappeared into the house but not before a button were pressed and the garage closed.

By this time, Santana was shaking violently at the tension in her stomach and arms, the moment the shoes were out of sight. She dropped to the ground with a pained grunt. The smooth concrete under her made it easier for her to slide from under the car. Standing erect, she turned on her walkie. "098. Copy. I'm inside the possible new headquarters of the perp, Burt's Lube and Tires. Pierce was accompanied by undetermined accomplices, 3 to be exact. I'm not sure what to do next, sir. I seem to be trapped in his garage. Speed Over."

"Copy. We need her taken down, Lopez. Use you're better judgment and do what you have to do. If given the chance go down. She is a major threat and I'd suggest you keep your gun and taser about you. Over." "Copy. I'll do my best. 098, out."

She flicked her walkie off and took her gun out of its holster. Biting her lip, she glanced at the door, imagining the girl. She imagined her terrified electric blue eyes looking at the gun pointed in her direction then at Santana, innocently scared and upset. _What if shes really just trying to help people? Has anyone every though of that? Have they tried to talk to her at all or understand? Next images of broken and deformed people pop into her brain and a small voice tells her, 'or she could be a terrorists, the girl may have some screws loose, she doesn't know how to tell time.' _ Clenching her jaw, Santana grasps her gun. _Despite my confusion, this is my job, God know how many lives depend on me. _Steeling herself, she prepares for confronting the girl and taking her down. The officer has always been good at concealing her feeling and this is the one time it really mattered. Pointing her gun at the door, she waited.

Hope you guys enjoyed that. I also really hope some of you liked it enough to review. Even if it's just a smiley face or 1 word, it means a lot to me. Sorry for any mistakes, don't be afraid to give me any constructive criticism and I'll be updating this soon.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm back. Thank you so much for the reviews and hopefully I answered your questions in response or they will be answered in this chapter. I truly appreciate you taking the time to leave me a little brain nugget about how you feel the story is going. lol

The links that were supposed to be in the first chapter will now be posted on my bio page.

Anyway, ENJOY.

Previously: 'Steeling herself, she prepares for confronting the girl and taking her down. The officer has always been good at concealing her feeling and this is the one time it really mattered. Pointing her gun at the door, she waited.'

Santana looked over the top of her gun at the door, tense with anticipation, ears straining for footsteps or screams or anything signaling the girl's presence but no sound was heard. Over the next few moments of dead silence, Santana went from feeling cautious to suspicious then from suspicious to paranoid. _What…What if this garage has cameras and she's watching me? ….This could be a trap._

Santana's lips tightened into a straight line and she gripped the hilt of her gun harder, arms feeling achy from her previous activities. She had been keeping them still over an extended period of time, not wanting to be caught off guard. Her peeled eyes scan over the garage, sliding over every nook and cranny, searching for an indication of a hidden camera. She was beginning to feel a bit ridiculous but as her eyes passed over the rusted body of an old gutted car, she noticed an object sitting on the dashboard.

Its front was showing through the open windshield and upon further inspection her breath catches; a miniscule green light shines through the darkness of the empty car.

_Oh God._

A jolt rushes through her, her stomach dropping. Her breathing speeds up as panic begins to overtake her. Slowly her right thumb slides back to the safety of her gun, gulping,Santana keeps one eye on the door and slowly creeps towards the object. She tries to ignore the thoughts she conjures of being watched by multiple masterminds who are waiting to capture and torture her.

"_It could be…GPS or something, just calm down, Lopez" _she tells herself, to ease her frayed mind.

She inches closer and closer, wincing at the sound of her starched clothes rustling; it sounded loud in the quiet area. Keeping her breathing shallow, Santana felt more aware of every movement of her body, knowing it is possible that she is being watched. When she reached the side of the car, she quickly reached out one hand to grab the object. Bringing her eyes down from the door to her hand, she confirms her suspicion. _It's a camera. _

Right after she came to that realization, she throws it down, watching as the green light deems. Panting, she grabbed at her walkie.

_I can't do this. I'm not fit for this…This is too scary. It's like I'm in a horror movie._

Biting her lip, she feels a familiar tingle in her throat and prickling in her eyes. Attempting to grasp the walkie through her watery eyes, it falls. At the sharp noise it makes, her eyes widen, unshed tears shimmering within, quickly she moved the gun to her right hand, and bent over the grab the walkie. She had to stretch awkwardly to remain observant of the door. It had skidded underneath the car. Cursing her luck, she got on her knees trying to get the device as soon as possible, but she didn't expect to find a suitcase under there. It was the kind that needed a code to open, patting around the darkness her fingers found the short antenna of her walkie talkie. Dragging it to her by the antenna, she also dragged the surprisingly heavy suitcase; the Latina pressed the button to turn on the walkie then the button to communicate to her lieutenant, while remaining on her knees. The urgency of the situation went up a notch, because the suitcase most likely has 'the drug' in it.

Parting her lips she whispered, "098 here. I ne-" THUMP.

The rest of her sentence was cut off by a gasp. The loud noise was followed by rapid footsteps seemingly above her. Gasping she scrambled to her feet and trembling she put her walkie in its place on her belt. Cradling her gun in both hands, she kicked the suitcase trying to push it back in its hiding place. Hearing a creak near the door, her eyes shot in its direction. Deciding the leave the suitcase half under the car body, she scooted quickly next to the Ford Falcon, using it as a sort of shield. Squatting, she aimed her gun at the door, breath panting out. She was prepared to shoot.

The door knob turned then the door opened.

The blonde came in smoothly, closing the door behind her. Santana stared as the blonde seemed to search for something or someone. She stayed at the door, stiff. Her eyes were looking around the garage, near the old car body. Confusion settled on the blonde's face as her blue eyes took in the rearrangement. A wrench was in one hand and the other was in a fist at her side. As she stood still at the door, staring at the displaced camera and suitcase, Santana inspected the girl.

Her blonde hair was wavy and similar to way Santana first saw it in the picture. Her slanted blue eyes were focused in the direction of the camera but even from Santana's viewpoint, they were intense and seemed to glow in the dimness. When the officer's eyes could finally tear away; they naturally went down to the girl's lips. They were pursed and slightly twisted to the side. Roaming down the girl's posture, she couldn't help but notice it wasn't defensive and was in fact, vulnerable. Santana let her arms relax a fraction. Blinking, she took in the girl's choice of dress; a stained jumpsuit covered the girl. The jumpsuit was too big and her shoulder was exposed, the strap of a white wifebeater on it. The girl seemed to be void of a weapon but under that jumpsuit, who knew what could be hidden. _Besides her perfectly toned body, _her mind chimed in without permission. …_which could harm me, she revised._

When the girl made a sudden movement, Santana held her breath, straightening her gun. Brittany had squatted, placing her wrench on the ground. Her next action was unexpected, she began clicking her tongue. A peculiar look was on the girl's face, she looked a bit excited and even happy. Now it was Santana's turn to be confused, as another bead of sweat slid down her forehead and past her ear, she watched the girl. Similar to how you call a pet, Brittany was tutting, whistling, and snapping her fingers. When a couple seconds passed her clear voice stated in a high tone, "I won't be mad that you knocked down my camera and tried to ransack my suitcase if you come out…I'll feed you." When more silence met her statement, the girl continued "I love animals, especially cats. Lord T is my favorite, but if you're a cat I'll try to take care of you. I might even take you home, if you don't mind smoking. Lord T seems to love cigars."

_She thought an animal got inside of the garage and did this. _The brunette recognized 'Lord T' as one of the things the girl was fascinated with, apparently it was a cat. The way she was speaking to what she though was an animal was odd. Santana recognized a pattern, the girl has talked to inanimate objects and animals as if they would respond.

_..She is clearly mental. _

Knowing this was probably the most vulnerable she would find the girl, seeing as she was without her accomplices, she needed to make the most of the opportunity and go down.

Just as she was about to read the girl her rights, her walkie let out a bout of static.

The girl's reaction was instant, she shoot up and instantly looked in the direction of her car still confused. But then her blue eyes landed on Santana's gun and the brown eyed girl practically could feel the girl's gaze… scratch that.. _glare_, run from the gun then up her arm finally landing on her face. Once those impossibly vivid cerulean eyes met her own wide coffee brown eyes, Santana literally felt frozen. Never in her life had she been caught in such a transfixing stare and she couldn't recognize the emotion behind them. Tentatively Santana rose up, intending on trying to talk to the girl; however, when the blonde's eyes seemed to darken, though it was probably an illusion from the girl's lowering eyebrows; Santana felt panic thrum through her once again.

Grasping her gun tighter in her sweaty grip, she detected the tense blonde's hand twitch into a fist nearly in sync with her. Santana's eyes slowly tore from the girl's eyes and flicked down to the hand. Taking it as a threat, the shaken officer stood up straight. Noticing the difference in their height even from a distance, she _needed_ to feel like she had the upper hand.

When she rose, the girl seemed to grow even tauter, the blue eyes no longer focused on hers but on her left index finger; it rested on the trigger.

As if her finger was physically moved from the blonde's stare, it twitched, a tiny movement, but apparently Brittany calculated it as a possible attempt to pull the trigger and before the officer could process it, the girl was three steps closer to her.

A gasp tore from her throat, the girl was fast and now Santana felt genuinely threatened. Stumbling back, her words flowed freely from her mouth, directed at the scowling girl. "You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be held against you. Do you understand?", Santana swallowed thickly. Her voice had sounded shaky to her own ears.

The girl just stared at her, eyes darting all around her, mostly focus on her hands.

_She must not have heard me._

Santana parted her lips to repeat, but the girl took another step towards her.

"D-don't move." Brittany was now only 2 steps away from Santana. Santana made to move back again but her foot collided with a tire pump. The Latina lost her balance and fell on her side; her hands opened involuntary to catch herself, the clatter of her gun resonating through the garage along with a sickening crack coming from her wrist and a dull thud from where she hits her head.

A high pitched whine fell from grimaced lips as Santana cradled her broken wrist to her chest. Bottom lip quivering, her whole arm pulsed painfully. A lump formed in her throat, the pain on top of her vulnerability made her feel like a failure. The brunette's body deflated, her drive dwindling.

She was feeling lightheaded and faint, the room spinning around her. The brave face she usually wore became too difficult to put on and she just wanted to run away from here, to separate herself from this responsibility and danger.

She was close to giving up, but she knew she never could. Her mind never allowed her too. No matter if she was at her breaking point, her stubbornness and pride, refused to let her give in, ever. Living in Lima Heights Adjacent taught her many things, and as Santana drifted on the edge of consciousness, her mind conjures the memory of when she got bullied in 3rd grade for wanting to be a cheerleader without proper gymnastic training.

"_Get up, Mija. Stiffen that upper lip, clean yourself up. Try again." Her mother said with a cigarette between her lips. She was watching Santana. The girl has been attempting to do a backhand spring, but with no training, she had landed on what feels like everybody part she has at some point or another. Grass, mud, blood, sweat, and tears stain the nine year old's clothes and face. _

_It was 9:30, which was your bedtime but you weren't lying in your bed, you were lying on the cold hard ground after you had fallen yet again just as you were about to land. Tears silently leak out of your eyes and you cover your face with your scraped hands. You had begged your Mami to let you stay up just this night to finally land this stunt; she had even missed her shift at the diner for you. But you have nothing to show for it._

_Your mother watches impassively as you choke out to her. "Those girls were right, Mami. I'm a failure…I'm sorry."_

_Expecting her to just sigh and mumble under her breath while leading you back home. You jump when she's suddenly over you, demanding you look at her. Uncovering your shimmering eyes you look into her similar dark orbs. She points a finger at your chest and tells you," You're only a failure…when you stop trying." _

_Gazing at her you just nod your head a little. A very small smile touches your mother's face as she looks at you. You rarely see her smile anymore and unconsciously you mirror her smile right back. Suddenly she's standing up and walking back to the bench she was reclining on, ending the moment abruptly. She reclaims her cigarette and just before she inhales again she adds, "I didn't raise failures and failures won't live in my house, so I suggest you get back up if you want a place to stay..." _

_You feel your chest constrict at that and your face scrunches but noticing the terrified look on your young face, she quietly admits "…I…I think you've almost got it, okay? So don't give up."_

_At your mother's words you brushed yourself off and started again, invigorated by her words._

_By 11:15 you had completed your backhand spring. You had never felt more proud and you're sure your mother hasn't either judging by the gentle head pat she gives you on the walk home. That day you came to realize your own strength and how far determination gets you._

The memory fades and Santana's eyes fluttered as she regained consciousness. She had probably only been out for around a minute, but quickly coming to her senses she remembered Brittany, the criminal. Jolting upright, she ignored the protests of her arm and made a move to get up. When she turned her head back in the direction of the blonde, she had to close her eyes as vertigo and dizziness filled her head with the motion. Opening her eyes, she searched for the blonde, only to find her a lot closer than expected. Brittany was hovering over Santana an ice pack in her hand and sweat on her forehead.

Brittany had been watching her as the memory played over in the brunette's head and Brittany didn't think she'd ever seen such a transformation happen while someone was sleep. The officer went from a strong woman to a scared little girl in a matter of seconds and she didn't think she's ever seen someone's face contort like that. Brittany saw her hit her head, but she'd also noticed the angle of her wrist. Not knowing what to do, she'd scrambled around looking for first aid but settled on an ice pack, not wanting to leave the girl alone. Just as she was about to place it on Santana's head she had woken up, leaving her awkwardly craned over the terrified girl. Brittany tried to show her she was only trying to help, but it seemed to scare her even more. Silently she watched as the Latina reacted.

Startled Santana grabbed at her gun with her good hand, pointing it at the girl's chest. The blonde's face had a worried look upon it as she looked at how hard the Latina's hand was quivering.

The girl reached out to touch her cradled hand or… maybe the gun, Santana didn't know which one, but she didn't want to wait to find out.

"Don't touch me. I know what you've done and I have the right to arrest you or even shoot you, so…you- you just do as I say." Santana panted, her hand was now shaking violently at being so close to the girl, whose hand was still outstretched.

Brittany once again just stared at her, but her expression seemed pitiful and maybe even guilty. Santana didn't understand Brittany's body language once again and grew upset at her silence. "Do you understand?!" Santana raised her voice.

At her volume Brittany seemed to finally look at Santana's face for the first time since she initially spotted her. The blonde's jaw clenched and she nodded slowly, moving her eyes to Santana's with what seemed like difficulty.

Lowering her hand, Brittany observed the officer, as if it was her first time seeing one… as if she couldn't look away. And instead of freezing at Brittany's obvious analysis of her, Santana also searched Brittany's face. Seeing the girl this close was overwhelming by itself and she had been trying to ignore the blonde's appearance but this close it was inevitable. She was stunning and Santana felt her pupils widening as they tried to take in all the girl's features at once. Santana's eyes hazily roamed over the girl's features, both strong and fragile. The long straight line of her nose to the delicacy of her lips, they were mesmerizing, but each seemed to be touched with sadness that seemed to grow the longer they looked at each other. Brittany's swirling eyes were calculating but intense and the brown eyed girl was beginning to think that was the only way she was capable of looking at her. Santana felt overwhelmed, looking at the blonde's anguish shadow her entire being. Santana's wrist was cramping in pain, but she still tried to hold up her gun. She knew it was pathetic and the blonde could easily just snatch it from her. And at the weakness in her limbs Santana didn't think she could even pull the trigger single-handedly, anyway. But that wasn't the point, she was going to fight and protect herself to the end.

…but staring at the beautiful girl in front of her, she didn't know exactly what she was protecting herself from anymore.

"Were you trying to kill me?" Santana eyebrows furrowed at the innocent question of the blonde.

Looking into her eyes, she could only see guilt with touch of apprehension amongst their depths. Santana didn't know what came over her, but she felt an all-consuming need to comfort and assure the girl that she didn't.

The blonde looked truly confused and to point a gun at the girl when she was obviously out of sorts, felt wrong to Santana. The officer found it surprising that even after what's happened, the girl's expression showed trust.

Purity shined through the girl's eyes and she may have been crazy to be honest with her but as she shook her head and lowered her gun, she felt like she did something right. Very right.

The blonde nodded then added another question. "Then why did you have a gun pointed at me?"

Santana set down her gun and used her other hand to help support her wrist. Nibbling her lip, she looked down at the ice pack Brittany was holding on to and shrugged.

"I was scared and I'd heard what you'd done and…I didn't know what to expect. I only wanted information. I was trying to arrest you. Sometimes we will shoot bad people in their arm or leg to keep them from hurting us or running, but we don't kill them unless they try to kill us."

Widening her eyes, Brittany whispered "I wasn't trying to kill you. I'm not trying to kill anyone…I don't understand why everyone thinks that."

Standing up Brittany, put an arm under Santana's knees and secured an arm around her back. Lifting "Let me help you." Brittany's quiet voice said into silence as she continued to stare into Santana's eyes.

Bowing her head and breaking eye contact she ran her a long pale finger over Santana's unimpaired wrist. "I didn't mean to hurt you so bad and I need to fix it."

Santana felt herself relax slightly at Brittany's tender caress, her eyes blinked slowly, longing to close. Brittany persisted, "Please let me fix it. I'll tell you what you want to know. I swear on….." Pursing her lips the blonde thought. "I swear on my whole unicorn collection that I will take care of you."

Santana faltered after hearing Brittany's voice. The blonde spoke low, so low she had to make her breathing shallower just to hear her clearly, but she'd heard her nonetheless.

Brittany continued, "Don't worry, Lord Tubbington will love you. "

Santana didn't know how to respond to that, so remained silent. When Brittany received no reply she lifted her head and when her eyes found Santana's again, Santana's head got another wave of dizziness and her head rested on the girl's tenses bicep.

Santana felt herself being drawn closer until her forehead rested in the crook of Brittany's neck with the taller girl's arm lower on her back, careful of not putting pressure on her injured arm. Santana felt her eyelids getting heavy and with a whimper she collapsed into the blonde's arms, crying. She didn't know what came over her, but she couldn't stop the tears. It was all too much.

She could only register the scent of candy and a pleasant buzz flowing through her at the points where Brittany made contact with her. The nearly unconscious officer knew she was in the arms of a criminal but with her eyes closed it felt just like she was being protected, she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt cared for. That only made her cry harder, it was pitiful.

"This is all my fault…I'm so sorry." Brittany murmured morosely. "I…I didn't mean for this to happen…I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I'm so stupid. I should have listened to Puck and Quinn."

For a moment, it was silent as Brittany maneuvered the icepack around until she had it almost pressed onto Santana's wrist. "This is gonna be cold. It still kinda surprises me sometimes, so just be ready."

Santana tried to form a response when Brittany put pressure on her wrist with the icepack but before she could speak the girl continued. "I'm going to take you home, okay? Even though I originally was planning on taking home a raccoon or a cat, I will take you…to take care of you. You're hurting and its my fault…like always." The girl's quiet voice was calm, but underlying rage was hidden beneath.

"No…hospital" Santana protested weakly.

Brittany interrupted. "I can't take you there. It would be a disaster and I have to get home tonight." "Look, I promise on a double rainbow that I won't hurt you. Please,…just let me fix this. I know what to do, I swear. It's like…one of the only things I'm good at."

Santana was taken off guard by the girl's heartfelt tone. "….but I…I don't know you", Santana pleaded lifting her head to look at downcast sorrowful eyes.

"..you don't?" Brittany asked. Pulling back, Santana groggily shook her head.

"Well, I'm Brittany S. Pierce… and its nice to meet you."

Bewildered, Santana stared at the girl's serious face. Putting her head back on the girl's bicep she fought a small smile at the girl's ridiculous misinterpretation of her words.

…_what criminal gives their full name to a police officer?..._

Her thought process was interrupted by the girl slowly walking to her car. Brittany bent down to open the car's passenger door with her hand under Santana's knees and when it was open, she hip checked it to widen so she could slide the darker skinned girl into the seat.

As she was eased in, Santana rested in the seat and closed her eyes as consciousness ebbed away.

Faintly she heard her door close along with another one. Strains of noise tried to reach her ears, but she couldn't tell if it was music or Brittany talking, they sounded too similar. The haziness that clouded her brain made her wonder if she would remember any of this tomorrow, all she knew is, she has probably gotten herself into something way more complicated by allowing Brittany S. Pierce, to take her to her home.

And with that last thought, Santana drifted away, blissfully unaware of the impact this event would cause.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N (Kinda lengthy) Hey you guys. I'm back, lol got a bit busy with school, but hopefully it wasn't too long. I didn't really plan this story per say and I got off track and I'm so new to writing I let it lead me away from my original thoughts. So I planned ahead this time and don't worry. Badass criminal Brittany is on her way, I had to tweak everything because last chapter I couldn't resist sweet Brittany which sorta screwed up everything XD and now the story is going to be more bizarre than it already was going to be. And it was going to be ssssuper bizarre, I know I'm wayyyyyyy in over my head with this story but I just want to try. I don't know anything about what I'm talking about like DNA or autism. I just had some crazy ideas about things I wonder about and….I want to create a unique plot, which is rare nowadays. Anyways, I hope it comes out well, but if it doesn't I'm sorry and tell me how I can make it better.

Enough with my rambling. On with the story.

Previously:

_The haziness that clouded her brain made her wonder if she would remember any of this tomorrow, all she knew is, she has probably gotten herself into something way more complicated by allowing Brittany S. Pierce, to take her to her home._

_And with that last thought, Santana drifted away, blissfully unaware of the impact this event would cause._

Her parents had known she was autistic since she was 2.

Brittany's eyes never meet anyone else's; not since she been around 4 months. They just stared at seemingly random spots on people's body like their neck or their legs when she was being talked to. She was a happy baby and learned to crawl and walk around the same time as any other baby, but certain things she did worried her parents.

Being the first born, the amateur parents didn't know that it wasn't normal for Brittany to only repeat animal sounds. Passing off their baby's habit of talking solely with animal sounds as late blooming, Julia and David went along with it. They knew that a meow meant 'yes' and a bark meant 'no' and when she made those sounds they responded accordingly. Family and friends always questioned when she would grow out of it and they always responded. "Soon. It's just a phase." pointedly ignoring the bewildered glances and whispers when they went out.

After a few months past her 2nd birthday, Brittany's family began to worry. Viola, Brittany grandmother, told Julia in a stern voice during their spring vacation to Belgium.

"Neem mijn kleindochter om in te checken. Iedereen maakt zich zorgen."

- Take my granddaughter to get checked. Everyone's worried.-

Julia attempted to reason with her mother but Viola wouldn't take no or later for an answer. She'd already scheduled a doctor's appointment right there in Belgium. Julia and David were both anxious for the appointment. Honestly, they'd been avoiding coming to find out if their child's behavior was normal or not; they were afraid that the news they'd receive would devastate them, but they knew it wouldn't be healthy for their daughter to continue without help.

Going into the doctor's office, David held onto Brittany tightly. Finding a seat in the plush waiting room, he put Brittany down and watches as his wife signed them in. He knew a bit of Dutch, but wasn't fluent so he knew he wasn't going to be the main communicator here like he usually would. Looking away he looks down at his baby, her blonde pigtails bobbing as she ran to the playing area. Another blonde girl was there and she had big stunning hazel eyes, Brittany usually didn't like playing with other kids and David was surprised when she sat down right next to the girl and grabbed a block.

The two girls interacted and a smile spread over David's face. "Maybe our baby is okay", he thought. Julia, who'd just finished talking to the receptionists, sat next to him. Resting her head on his shoulder, and looping her arm through his, she sighed.

After a moment of hearing both the toddler's giggles and seeing Brittany building with the other girl, she whispered.

"I'm sure it'll be fine." Patting her husband's knee.

"Pierce?" Raising both of their hands, Brittany's parents rose and went to the doctor. An older man with a grey suit and matching grey hair shook their hands, introducing himself. In accented English he says, "Nice to meet you. I'm Dr. Hasselbring." He looks around for a moment and then to his clipboard. "Is Brittany here with you today?"

"Yes." David replies, gesturing with his hand to his daughter who was now curiously looking in their direction. Squatting, he holds his hand out, "C'mere. Say bye to your friend."

With a pout, the little girl puts down her block and waves at her playmate. The hazel eyed girl waves back and goes to her mother. The girl's mother waves at Julia with a smile and gives a wave to Brittany too. Running to David, Brittany holds his hand. Standing, David introduces his daughter. "This is Brittany. Brittany, this is Dr. Hasselbring. Can you say 'hi'?"

Blue eyes stared at the doctor before a small yip escapes her mouth. Julia and David share a look before apologizing. "We're sorry."

"It's fine." The doctor responds. "It's a pleasure, Brittany", patting her head he turns on his heel and leads them to his office. Following close behind, Julia speaks up. "Did my mother already tell you what this appointment is about?" Entering the room, he closes the door and insists for them to sit down while taking his own seat.

After all is situated, Brittany in David's lap, does he respond. "Yes and if you don't mind, I'd like you to tell me more about her behaviors, even if you think they are normal." Taking out a notepad he gives an encouraging smile.

Bouncing his leg up and down David starts. "Well, she hasn't said any….words, per say. Except for her name and the alphabet; she never says the ending part. Um… she usually only makes animal noises or uses nonsense words. She likes running and listening to music, that mostly what she does all day. Sometimes when we lay her down to sleep, she'll scream and scream and scream and won't stop until we sing Old McDonald Had a Farm."

"It's not every night she does that, though." Julia interrupts. Writing, Dr. Hasselbring nods. "Also she seems bothered by her tears, whenever she cries she puts something over her face. A couple times she's taken off her shirt and covered her face with it or puts her hands over her eyes to prevent them from rolling down her face. It really seems to bother her."

Dr. Hasselbring nods and stops writing. "Does this happen during bath time as well? Not wanting water on her face?"

"Yes." David answers bouncing Brittany in his lap. She's restlessly squirming and its obvious David wants to let her down.

"You can put her down. I don't have anything she could mess up in here. It's fine."

"Okay." Letting go of Brittany, David bites his lip. Once on her feet, Brittany runs to her mother.

As David lists more things Brittany does, Julia smiles at her daughter. Giggling, Brittany smiles back her few teeth showing. Julia goes to pick her up but she moves away.

"Hey." Julia plays along. "Come back here." Reaching out for her, Brittany moves out of her reach again, putting a hand over her mouth, full out laughing.

Julia splits her attention between the conversation between her husband and the doctor and Brittany. Slowly, Brittany inches forward and circles around the chair Julia is in. She starts slow, but soon she's running around the chair. When Julia attempts to grab her, Brittany changes directions.

Hearing the doctor say something to her, Julia stops playing and looks to him. "Excuse me?"

"I said, 'Can you see if maybe she'll recite the alphabet right now?"

"Oh yes. She loves singing the alphabet. Brittany. Brittany."

Stopping and looking at her mother the panting girl, makes a small noise in the back of her throat.

Julia takes her by the shoulders and puts her in her lap. Looking down at her shirt, Brittany rests her head on her mother's chest. The doctor observes the exchange.

Looking at her face, Julia pats her leg. "Do you want to do the alphabet?"

At the word alphabet, her little blonde head shoots up. "Meow. Meow."

"Go ahead." Sitting up, Brittany begins clapping her hands.

"A,B,C,D,E,F,G,H,I,J,K,L,M,N,O,P,Q,R,S,T,U,V,W,X,Y,Z"

"Yay." Her parents clap and cheer. Joining in the doctor, claps and cheers along.

"That's pretty impressive. She really knows each letter." Still clapping, Brittany beams. Chuckling, the grey haired man jots down another note in his book.

Resting her head back on her mother's chest, Brittany lets out a yawn. Patting her back, Julia looks at the doctor's notebook.

"She can also do it backwards, you know." Abruptly the doctor's hand stops moving.

"Come again?" he asks, looking from David to Julia.

Apprehensively she repeats,"…she can say the alphabet backwards."

For a little, no one makes a sound as the doctor stares down at his notebook. "That's…interesting. Did you teach her that?"

"No. She just kind of started saying it on her own."

"Do you thi-"

The doctor is interrupted by his receptionists. "Times up." She says pertly before leaving just as quickly as she came. Closing his notebook, the older man stands.

"..Well, it was a pleasure to meet you." Walking to the door, he stops with his hand on the handle. Turning to face the family he adds. "And please don't forget to make another appointment."

"Okay. Um..." Julia carrying a sleeping Brittany walks through the threshold. "Doctor I know its really soon to ask this, but do you think our daughter is..sick?"

David, who was behind her, nodded.

"Well, it is pretty soon to say, but I wouldn't say she is sick, but she is certainly special." Dr. Hasselbring responds.

"Is there anything we can do?" They ask in sync.

"Well, just meet with me once every two week and we'll figure out the best plan of action."

After shaking hands, the couple exited just as clueless and they'd entered, but a small glimmer of hope was ignited within them.

-16 years later-

"She said she doesn't want to live in the hospital anymore." Julia repeats.

"…We can't let her leave, Ms. Pierce. You know that. It's not her decision." The man behind the counter asserted

"She's 18! Legally it is." The blonde woman argues. "Calm down, honey." Her also blonde husband cautioned. Turning to David, Julia frowns.

"No, they are trying to handicap my daughter. How are you so calm about this?" David bites his lip as his wife throws her hands up exasperated. Before she can finish her rant, the nurse adds.

"Ma'am, no disrespect, but we don't see that your daughter is fit to make such decisions for herself." Narrowing her eyes, Julia protested.

"That is absolutely untrue. What brought you to that conclusion?"

"Well, as you know, Brittany speaks very little English. Whether by choice or not, she can't "speak" for herself."

After staring at the man, shaking her head, Julia walks off, muttering in Dutch. David left alone questions the man. "Can't she just write?"

Looking around the lobby, the nurse peels his eyes. "Has Dr. Schuster not told you anything?" he whispers.

"What do you mean? He gives us updates on Brittany daily. We know what she's achieved as well as most of the world, that's why my wife and I are protesting the containment of our daughter."

The man looks around his area then waves his hand at David. Slowly maneuvering around the lobby he enters behind the counter and looks at the man.

"Sir. Your daughter's decision making skills are severely incorrect. If left alone she makes several life-threatening mistakes that if she weren't watched over would cost her her life." Opening his mouth, David plans to rebuttal but the nurse holds up a hand. Reaching behind him he grabs a file.

"Read this."

Twisting his mouth, David snatches his reading glasses from his pocket and puts them on. The file is labeled with his daughter's name. Opening the file he begins to read.

_Today at 7:00 a.m., Brittany and 4 others attempted to escape the facility. Subjects: Noah Puckerman (pathological liar and creator of Poolclear), Lucy/Charlie/Quinn Fabray (_first known triple personality disorder and world renowned thief), Artie Abrams (bipolar, obsessed with limb regeneration and biological reconstruction) and Mercedes Jones (mentally unstable brain scientist and overall body surgeon). _By now all four of her companions are aware of the inner workings of Brittany S. Pierce, the first known biology savant; better than the doctor's themselves._ _When Mercedes was asked how she communicates with Brittany, she responded_. "Give me some tater tots and I'll spill." After given tater tots she admits. _"I talk to her; you just have to get on her wavelength. Y'all have no idea how they brain really works. Get out of my face." _

_The staff can hardly get information from Brittany most information comes indirectly._

_10/1/10-Mercedes is overheard on the monitor talking to Arthur Abrams during dinner. _

_Subject shared: "…She described them as all-consuming and spellbindingly intense thoughts, beyond anything they could imagine. It was something no one would be able to fathom without experiencing it, just like Brittany wasn't able to fathom actually controlling her thoughts like a normal person could." _

"_Her thoughts surrounded mythology, cats, biology and fantasy, that's all her mind would allow her to grasp and to learn about. It seems all thoughts of anything else are generally ignored."_

"_How do you know?" Noah chimes._

_Retelling an event, Mercedes tells him._

"_Well I went to let her know, we'd executed her plan and were ready for escape but when I came to her she was watching one of her interviews that she'd done with her parents on Oprah. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to only be listening to it. You guys know she likes to do that because that's the only ways she hears her parent's voices anymore. But anyways when I walked in, she turned and looked me in my eyes." Gasps came from the monitor. "That's how I knew she'd tested our drug." "I don't think she's ever noticed my face because she started screaming as soon as she saw it. She couldn't seem to look away. I had to go to her and repeat, "Brittany, I won't hurt you. Its Mercedes."_ _followed by a light tap on her arm."_

_Answering an unheard question, Mercedes went on to say during one of their early morning meetings, Brittany had written to her that of the things her brain likes are rhythms and finding patterns and codes. Mostly in music or transcripts of certain characteristics held in chromosomes and DNA strands. She said it was easy for her to remember because it was like for each genome she literally saw how each one played to creating the creature she was studying. She'd told Mercedes just as a normal person recognizes faces, she could recognize genomes. She couldn't forget where a certain acid was because looking at the paper it was embedded in her mind; faces moved too much but the letters, they all stayed the same._

_After spending time around her the 4 said they noticed that she wasn't unreachable, just very different_. _Lucy says all she wants to do is learn, categorize, and execute new knowledge, relevant to what interests her. She knows of the sickness and illnesses present in the world, she wants to help and she can't when you trap her here._

David looks up from the file at the nurse, knowing what he he needed bring up a chair for the aged man to sit in. With a shaky hand, Brittany's father pulls the chair to him and sits. Emotions at all of this new information taking away his strength. Going back into the file he turns a new page.

_Doctor Schuester and all the nurses always have to pry to pens from Brittany when its class time and the blonde goes stock still every time. –Instead of studying the English we give her. She yells and thrashes about until we give her full genome layout. – Very difficult to get her to speak. –During visits to animal shelter or zoo, hides around building and acts as if its tag when staff tries to keep her under control._

_9/28/10 –In Brittany's area- Artie wheels to Puck carefully, looking around suspiciously._

"_They just found out she has anger problems from the facility."_

_Turning around Noah scoffs, "What do they think would happen? They never let her draw the unicorns and other "mythical" creatures she drew and she really hates when people stop her from creating and making creatures that she knows can be genetically created. Just like they tried to stop each and every one of us from what we do."_

_He had said it barely above a breath but the blonde appeared to have heard and her hands drew up into fists. _

"… _because she fights the nurses when they try to stop her from writing chromosomal sequences for a unicorn or a Pegasus and try to force her to learn how to talk."_

Julia returns from outside where she talks to her youngest daughter, searching the lobby she comes to the window. "David?" Looking to the nurse in confusion, he tells her that he gave her husband a file to read. Turning the page, David reads on, oblivious to the conversation being held about him.

_Lucy Fabray's Diary: Brittany, free of her autism has experienced normalcy. Yet her mind is telling her that reality is, in fact, not real. Only what goes on inside her brain and her thoughts were what's real to her, before. It was like a switch when she took it. It was a miracle, there has to be a way to share this with the world. Though she's picked up being with her autism well, Its still confusing to her and making part of her reject "reality's" existence. We've set a date for breaking out of here and I just hope she doesn't relapse. They'll never find her where we've hidden her._

_Charlie's Diary: Brittany doesn't understand eye contact in the state she's in, body language is what she understands. It never lies and it can't deceive you like eyes can. She sees no point in looking at someone's eyes when they're other body parts that are more telling than eyes will ever be to her. She doesn't understand emotion and she can't recognize it in people's faces. It's something she had to learn once the drug she created brought her out of her autistic perspective of everything. But she can tell when someone is nervous from their breathing patterns so she looks at their chest and with the concentration she has within her state, she can even focus to see the pulse in someone's neck and wrist. The number of times someone swallows can indicate mood, because she knows the average amount of times saliva is produced enough to stimulate swallowing and she also knows that when people want things they salivate more which causes more swallowing. How many wrinkles are in someone's forehead can indicate how upset they are or how confused. It's the basic rules of muscle and skin tension and how they correlate. Legs can indicate many things like which way a person will go, if they are cold, or if they are uncomfortable or when they are going to move. All this information she's taught me is so valuable, especially when I'm gonna be out selling our product when we get out of here. Some of the sickest and most dangerous people are about in the market and I've got to know how to read them and get our drug spread about._

_By now Quinn, Mercedes, Noah, and Artie all know the inner working of Brittany's brain as much as they mentally can. From reading each of their mandatory journals, Dr. Holiday gathered that Brittany most commonly describes being in her autistic mind state is being lost. Lost within your thoughts and they are all mixed up, but it all has to do with something, something that your mind chooses. She said it was like your brain worked on its own and you were just along for the ride. It chose what it wanted to take in and what it didn't, it set your priorities for you and thinking was above everything else voluntary. It took what you liked and put it at the highest level of body function, your brain tells you that only your thoughts are real and nothing else mattered._

_During Brittany's Evaluation Session she'd said (written):_ _her mind was her best friend; it was like it talked to her. And the thoughts, she explained, were so vivid and alive. She wrote "When I first came to… it was like everything was fake, because my thoughts were all I knew."_

_They were as wild as she could imagine and her imagination was endless. Her thoughts were all consuming and tricked her into thinking all of her senses were literally experiencing what she was thinking and_ _conjuring in her head. Thinking was her hobby and it was her life. It is unfathomable to normal functioning people, but it was as if her brain restricted her from using it completely and it regulated itself without her personal input. Part of her was detached from the world and only paid a small amount of attention to the outside world and it was solely to add to her collection of information that she stored in her head to create even better and more brilliant thoughts, the other part of her was lost within her mind, organizing idea and putting them together to solve questions. She knew said words for what she wanted to know, like chromosome, acid, protein, and her brain paid attention to patterns because biological patterns is what she was interested in or obsessed with. Therefore any pattern was latched onto by her brain, if it was relevant or not depended on the judging part of her brain, which decided if something, was worth storing or discardable. Music had patterns and her mind liked how it was unpredictable yet predictable and it gave her insight on how the body changes. Just like a beat slows down or speeds up and it reminds her of the human heart and she relates music with bodily reactions and whenever there was a beat it brought her a fraction out of the never-ending oasis of her thoughts and closer to the surface and that is way to get her attention is creating a beat that she finds relatable._

Turning the last page he reads.

_Brittany has been missing since September 28, 2010._

"Is this what they meant by unavailable?" He thinks overcome with anger. Not able to read anymore, David stormed out of the office. Grabbing his wife by the arm, he walks out of the building. Faint calls from the nurse reach his ears.

"Call our lawyer." Julia takes out her phone and dials the number, going to their car she inquires.

"Where is our baby? Is she alright?"

David starts the car and after his wife both get in, he peels out of the driveway.

"I don't know but I'm going to find out."

-Two Years Later-

Startled awake by the sound of a crash, Santana sits up feeling as though she had just emerged from underwater. Sitting up abruptly and bringing her right hand to her chest the officer gasps in deep gulps of air; the loud echo of her wheezing the only sound in the room she rests in.

Coughing and pulling at her collar, her eyes flint around only to find pitch black darkness. Squeezing her eyes back shut, Santana swallows noticing for the first time how dry her throat is. Only after Santana calms herself from the momentary feeling of suffocation with a deep breath does she open her eyes again.

_..Still nothing. Am I blind?_

The first thing that returned to her was her sense of smell, she was oddly numb but even though the air was stiflingly thick with smells, wrinkling her nose, she could identify many of them.  
Most prominently, there was the unmistakable smell of chemicals. If you've ever been around a commercial laboratory project or spilled a lot of cleaning supplies, you know the smell. It was thick, heavy, choking. Next there was the smell of fruits, her stomach seized with nausea.

_Where...am I? What going on?_

Santana had no sense of time. Had it been five minutes since her capture? Five hours? Five days? The physical darkness around the small officer, the lack of light, kept her from knowing anything substantial so far, but she was desperate to know where she was.

Solemnly, she wondered how long it took to die under these circumstances. She was petrified, cold, and her stomach felt empty. She had always been scared of the dark. Her mom left her alone all time to go to the diner when the light bill wasn't paid. It didn't help the Latina had no idea where she was and she couldn't see anything. Feeling her heart begin to start pumping faster and her training kick in, she starts gathering information. Putting the hand not at her chest on the surface beneath her, she runs her palm along it away from her until she meet an edge. Pressing her lips together, she quickly draws her hand away.

_Am I…how high up am I? Am I alone?_

Her brain's functioning was sluggish at best but her hearing seemed extra sharp. The rustling of the light cover caused her to grit her teeth at the way it grated on her eardrums. Involuntarily she moved her eyes around.

_The darkness is really starting to bother me._ Bringing her knees to her chest and resting her cheek on the rough starch on her knee, she knew she wouldn't be able to find out as long as she had no source of light. Taking her hand from her chest she lays it tentatively on the thin crumpled blanket in her lap and stares down at it. Hoping to see, at least the outline, but she couldn't. Flexing the numb hand, she felt a hard texture preventing her from making a fist.

Feeling her breath speed up, she brings her left hand to whatever is on her right and drags her fingertips along the texture. She feels the defined roughness of a cast encompassing her wrist and the back of her palm, the soft inside rubbing against the skin there. Small tan fingertips flicker nervously along her arms, feeling her assortment of patches and pockets on her uniform. Checking for any additional damage that has been mysteriously tended to and lets confusion set in. Her face felt stiff like she had been crying, eyes heavy and lips swollen. Feeling something on her forehead, quickly she casts away the fabric of the cover with her uninjured hand but winces when a sharp pinch accompanies the movement along with two sounds that seem to ring her ears. The first sound was the rip of tape and the second was wheels moving across the floor. Moving her fingers to her other wrist; Santana feels a small tube protruding from a piece of tape on her inner arm. Swinging her legs over the platform, she bites her dry lip as she notes that besides feeling extremely wrinkled her uniform was missing its utility belt.

For a long while, Santana sat still, bits and pieces from last night trickling into her consciousness. She knew roaming around without anything previous to go on would threaten her life even more; enough of last night revealed that she was probably brought here by Brittany.

_Brittany. _At the name, Santana remembered her intense shimmering blue eyes first. The ones that seemed to haunt her from when she first saw them in her car. Next she remembered the criminal's weird behaviors. Talking to cars and animals, not being able to tell time…not killing her, giving an officer her full name, taking her to her home….well apparently that was a trap. _Or not…maybe this is her house._ Lastly andbitterly, Santana remembers how she'd had her uncharacteristic break down. It made no sense to her; the only reason she had to defend her actions was that she _felt_ so overwhelmed with everything. It was like Brittany made her feel that, but that was part of her plan obviously. Who knows what type of things she's done to her already. There no way Santana would have done that if she was in her right mind. Squinting she understands that when she was out from hitting her head, the drug lord could have given her something. For the first time, the Latina noticed how twisted her behavior regarding the girl had been from the moment she'd gotten close to her, lifting her head she became conscience that it's the most relevant information Santana had.

_Escape._

She was too scared to move, though. From all those spy and police movies Quinn had her watch, she knew it couldn't mean anything good to be trapped in the dark. During that time of thought, the Latina's shallow breath and heartbeat all she could hear, sitting in silence started to make her feel like something was going to happen, she stared ahead of her, hoping to see _something_. The frightened Latina did that until she felt fearfully compelled to break the silence, parting her lips she takes a breath to speak.

_Thump._

She stares out at the darkness before her. Heart rate spiking.

"Hello?" Santana's voice cut through the darkness. "Is anyone in here?"

Blinking her eyes Santana goes silent; listening for any sound that could indicate someone is with her.

_Thump._

"W-who's there?"

Tilting her head in the direction of the noise, she scrambles to stand up. Putting her hand down and Santana feels all around her, touching the edge. Nervously relaxing her legs, the backs of her boots hit what supporting the surface she was laying on. The metallic clang reminded her of a file cabinet. Running her boot along the metal, handles dug into her calves and the back of her knee.

Santana swings her feet over, having to blindly drop down she inches until her behind to the edge; running her tongue over her lip, Santana stretches her legs down to reach attempt to reach the floor. Holding on tightly to the ledge, she lowers herself and is relieved when her boots touch the ground. Settling herself on the floor, Santana turns around and puts her hands on the drawers of the desk. Blindly she grabs at handles and jerks at them, but none will budge. Standing she puts a hand on the desk for a reference point and holds her casted hand out, walking around the desk. The room was bigger than she thought, letting go of the desk, she shuffles away from it until her outstretched hand meets a wall. Hearing wheels again, she whips her head in the direction of the sound. Her senses of touch and hearing were both heightened incredibly and she flinched as she felt a something brush her arm. Screaming Santana captures what brushed her arm and snatches it away from her; ripping out a few hairs from her scalp.

_My hair is down?_

Hissing, she releases her deathgrip on her hair and continues shuffling along touching the walls, in hopes of finding a door.

Stopping, Santana feels an edge and a gap in the wall. Holding her breath, she runs her hand across the gap and gasps when cold glass meets her fingers. Moving her arm across the entire span of the window, she reasons it's a very large window. With knowledge of the large window in front of her, she feels her first dose of adrenaline hit her. Standing to her feet, she tugs the tube from her arm to a drip near the window. Narrowing her eyes, she contemplates ripping it out now that she isn't too sure she's in a hospital. Walking closer to the big window, she wraps two fingers around the tube and begins to pull it like a rope until the drip stand rolled in her direction.

Once it was in front of her, she reached for the bag, holding it in her palm.

_..what the hell, the liquid is hot…_

Puzzled, Santana frowned. Beginning to get frightened, she peeled the tape from her arm and took the needle out of her vein, breath coming out faster. Pushing the rolling stand from her, she puts her good hand on her forehead.

Her heart catches in her throat as she rotates in the direction of the source. Tilting her head she realizes it's a coming from the window. Striding up to the reflective surface, she holds her hand up to it. Leaning closer to try to see beyond the mirror or window, making her fist to hopefully break or bang on the glass, she hears a noise from beyond the cool glass. Dropping her fist, she hears it again.

People talking.

Turning curiously, Santana notices a single voice sounding out. In the blink of an eye, Santana was frozen and was pressing her ear to the wall beside the glass. After a minute passed of hearing nothing, she bites her lip, holding in a sob.

_Am I going crazy? She cried internally._

Santana's face was nearly plastered to the wall before she could make out more sound. She probably should have been scared, but she needed to hear what was being said to know if the people talking would help or harm her. She didn't want to risk being seen through a 2 sided mirror so she strained to hear any words that might tell her if she's better off escaping by herself than asking for help. Sniffling the Latina prays that she'll hear something substantial soon.

After an hour passes, she is feeling stiff from standing so still, but when noises are there again she listens attentively with new vigor to the barest of sounds and through all the additional chatter one word is recognizable through the thick wall.

"Dispose."

…_.they're gonna kill me._

"No. No. NO. Please." She screeched, a sob escaping her.

"..Awake." "Turn on the light."

Tears of anguish trailed down Santana's face as she began to cry but the officer couldn't cry hard. _I think they heard me..I let myself get too vulnerable and that's what got me in this awful situation_.

Waiting with bated breath for something to happen, she prepares to fight, negotiate, or beg. Whatever it took to stay alive.

To Santana's surprise, a florescent light in the corner of the ceiling began to flicker on, followed by a row of lights similar to it all lighting until the whole room was awash in bright white light. Shielding her eyes, the Latina looked around her.

The room looked how she pictured it: empty save for a desk in the middle, a cup was on the floor near it and Santana thinks it was the source of the sound that woke her up.

Everything was white, the desk, the floor, and the walls were, and even the door on the wall opposite of her was white. The only thing of a different color was the window she was currently next to. Standing up she looks down at herself, looking over her hands and legs. She lets out a slightly relieved breath, swallowing hard; the Latina begins walking to the door. Sprinting to it, she looks at the window she was near. Not wanting to be seen she turns away. The now suddenly sweating officer pulls at the doorknob. "Please please please please." She whimpered, putting her both hands on the door, she pushed.

The door wouldn't budge. With a quick glance at the window, she backs up then runs into the door, shoulder checking it. In response the small woman, rebounds onto the floor and goes to her next option. She knew people were on the other side of that window, but she was trying to escape as stealthily as she could, taking off her shoe she stands up and brings the heavy boot heel down on the doorknob, hoping to break it or make it loose. Diligently she continues for what seems like a few minutes before she drops to her knees, panting. Sitting with her back to the wall, thinking of another plan she expects someone to come storming in. Maybe when they open the door, she can go all Lima Heights on them and escape. For the next few minutes, she bangs her shoe on the wall. A small bang resounds from the impact and frustrated, she grabs it and repeats it over and over. Letting out a blood curdling scream Santana looks in the direction of the large window; caught between wanting to get caught and wanting to remain hidden in her attempts to bust out of the room.

10 minutes later, her arm is tired and nothing has happened.

_I guess I can hear them and they can see me, but I can't see them and they can't hear me._

Dropping her head dejectedly, the officer drops her shoe and notices something in the corner next to the door. Gasping, she walks to the "iv" stand that she'd pushed and intends to the read find out what was in the bag on the carrier.

The bag read. "Influence- Phy AB-XXX"

_Influence?...I've never heard of that? What do they have in my bloodstream?_

Brown eyes watered once again. _How dare they?_ Narrowing her eyes at the window, she goes back to grabs her shoe and stomps towards it.

_This is my last hope._

Lifting the boot high over her head, she strikes the window with all the strength she can muster and after, there had been an instant of complete, unsettling quiet, no noise of any sort came from the wall. Determined Santana presses her ear next to the cool glass. Immediately the sounds of typing from a keyboard, paper pages turning, and hushed conversations meet her ears.

Cocking her head, she looks from side to side but it's much too opaque to see through, straining she attempts to catch the gist of what's being said, but it's too low for her to hear yet everything sounds slow and oddly crisp to her ears. Inching even closer, she cocks her head and puts her ear directly on the glass. Barely holding in her gasp, she stares ahead of her, listening intently.

Instantly she can hear better without the barrier of the wall and Santana quietly eavesdrops on the people all talking…no arguing before her.

There are several voices and strangely she feels as though she recognizes them from somewhere. Squeezing her eyes shut once more to concentrate, a memory of her beside a car hearing bits of conversation filters into her mind and when her eyes snap open. The situation is a lot clearer and a lot more dangerous. _These are the people from Burt's shop?...if this is an observatory, shouldn't they be where I am? _Sliding down the wall, Santana hides as best she could while listening as her situation finally comes together. Facing the passcode door on the opposite side of the room, the officer now listens even more diligently knowing her life might be on the line. Santana listened in on the conversation but didn't know what went on behind the glass. Voices slowly began to rise in volume and at last, the gist of what went on was revealed to the isolated Latina.

_What's going on? ..more importantly do they know I'm here? _

"Have you lost your fucking mind, Britt? Why are you acting like this? What happened last night?" she said.

Eyes widening, Santana shifted at the name. She knew who Brittany was, she remembered reading about her…and seeing her picture.

"I told you I don't know what happened, Quinn. I don't remember. Why do I have to keep repeating it?"

She instantly matched the voice to the criminal, the one she was assigned to. Though unlike yesterday, thinly veiled anger was apparent in her tone, fidgeting Santana felt an unknown emotion at the knowledge of her anger. Dread filled her being for a reason she had yet to realize.

"Because it doesn't make any sense, that's why!" a husky feminine voice gritted.

Brittany mumbled. "Everything makes sense." _What does she mean? _Santana thought to herself.

"Artie…please. Do something. That officer is tearing up our new Interrogation room!" Husky pleaded after a brief moment of silence. Santana drops her eyes down.

_So they did notice me._

"That doesn't matter right now, plus we can just kill her later. She's obviously the reason why Brittany is trippin'. Where is she now anyways?" A deep voice responds, clenching her jaw Santana grips her boot tighter.

_These people really are sick, what do they mean I'm the reason? I don't know anyone._

" Puck…please shut up. Brittany,..what _do _you remember then?" A slightly nasally masculine voice chimes in.

…_Puck? This is the second time I've heard that….It couldn't be MY Puck, could it? He's on the force._

_..man's name is Artie. _ The sound of typing stops and Santana hears the response better with less noise.

"No one is dying until proven guilty and the last thing I remember.." Brittany pauses, "is being at Burt's and running downstairs because the tv-thingy you guys told me to watch had no image on it from the camera and after that I can't remember anything else."

"So you don't remember the hot chick in the observatory that tried to disable you?" The different masculine voice questioned.

The unmistakable smack of flesh being hit followed by the same voice muttering in pain sounded after the question.

"You're lucky you throw good parties and help with the chemistry of our project, because if you didn't _I _would have killed _you_ a long time ago."

"Yeah right, Quinnie, like you can defeat Puckasaurus. Just because Charlie's good in the streets doesn't mean you are."

"Fuck you, Noah."

_Oh my god….its is my Puck. How is he involved in this? First Burt, now him? _

"Guys please." Artie cuts in.

A deep sigh comes from the wall. "Mercedes, you have to talk to her." Pause "I-I don't understand what's going on, She's…she's acting like…" Husky says.

"I know, but that's impossible, Q. The last time that happened without her being induced was two years ago. There has to be another reason why." A sassy voice responds.

…_why do they keep saying induced, is someone pregnant? This is getting too weird._

Santana thinks, trying to connect clues as best as she can.

"If there's one thing Brittany's always said, it's that nothing is impossible. I just can't believe it may be what I think it is." Quinn replies.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think we need to run some tests on her." Artie whispers.

"Its getting worse, its like we aren't even here to her."

"That fast? She was just talking to us." Puck comments.

"Yeah, ever since this morning after she came out of there…it's been like…before."

"What is she writing?" "I don't know."

"…it-it's a drawing of some sort."

Tentatively the 3rd female voice, known as Mercedes asks if she can see her drawing.

"Why would she be drawing during this? She only does that when we induce her…" Artie says.

…_.induce…..like force?_

"Brittany said she has to draw in order to relieve the pressure on brain." Mercedes responds. Hesitantly she adds, "It doesn't always have to mean that. I'm gonna check her out."

At this point, the Latina is very lost as to what's happening, but the feeling of dread feels heavier and heavier as the voices sound more and more morose and silences are more often reaching Santana's ear than noise.

The pieces of last night are coming together and fear is the only feeling Santana is capable of at this point. With all the unwillingness to say what exactly they think is happening to Brittany and overall weird atmosphere, Santana begins to feel the weight of this situation cracking her attempt to remain calm.

Now, the only sound coming from beyond the glass is the scribble of a pen. Santana notices she hadn't heard Brittany's voice for around 30 minutes and presses harder against the glass to ensure no missed sounds. Eerily as soon as she got closer the scribble immediately stopped, thinking they'd heard her she freezes, seizing even to breath.

A long moment passes, and a small noise keening yelp startles Santana.

_Are they torturing something in there?..._

"A-a-artie. Come look at this." Mercedes whispers lowly. A giggle escapes out of Brittany's mouth as a wheel squeaks. "Dolphin."

A pause.

"Oh my god. Quinn, please tell me we aren't seeing this." Arties voice rose a few octaves.

Santana moves further behind the wall, sensing all this tension is building and going to end with her. "We have to immediately go to the lab. Pack up everything! She is in the process of a serious relapse! Mercedes, get her to stay with us, please." Quinn barks.

"The only way this could have happened is if something reversed her biochemistry. It…doesn't make any sense. By now our drug has to be flawless."

"What is the formula for the antidote for her condition?"

Looking up, he begins to recite a formula. "Well I don't have the paper but it has to be the perfect balance of proteins, bases, blood type, chromosomal sequence, and processes. Basically the perfect reverse genome of Brittany now altered DNA."

"How the hell would anyone know that but us?"

"Maybe they found our old journals? You guys know I hide them as best as I could."

"Why didn't you just burn 'em? That's what I would have done."

"There is still information we need in some of them, idiot."

"Guys, enough. Just pack up everything and bring the spare wheelchair." Shuffling is heard along with bickering between the male and the female.

The silence is broken when Artie asks. "It's transferred through proximity, isn't it?"

"….yes."

"Well, we only let her out of our sight to fix her ride…so that means the only person that's touched her is.."

At the same time they both say. "The Officer."

"Have Charlie go get her."

Freezing, Santana gets stock still. _Me...?_

"_Got the chair." An out of breath voice announces._

"_Thanks, Puck. Put her in it and take her to the van as quick as you can, she's going to need immediate resuscitation in the gas chamber. Once she's in her correct mind and finds out what's happened to her, please make sure she doesn't explode the officer before we can question her. We won't be able to make it to our appointment today nor will we be able to disperse our newest batch to those soldiers in Iraq. She's going to be devastated."_

"_Roger that."_

"_Hey, Charlie." "You rang?" "Go get _Ms. Lopez. _We need answers and you know how to make her talk."_

"_Okay." _

Footsteps increase in volume as "Charlie" comes closer.

Standing up, she turns towards the door. Running to the desk they had her on, she climbs ontop and holds her boot over her head.

Her heart is beating faster than it ever has.

A few beeps sound then the doorknob turns and she feels a strange sense of Déjà vu from when she'd first gotten into this mess.

Not knowing what to expect, the door swings open and in all her glory. Charlie Fabray stands in the threshold.

A shock of pink hair atop a doll-esque but nonchalant face burns into Santana's eyes on the backdrop of white. A piercing shines on one nostril and the woman's lips are almost the same shade as her hair. She's wearing all black; a leather coat with chains is over a cut off shirt. Hole-y jeans and boots complete the outfit. Handcuffs loop her belt hoops and right above her pocket was….her gun?

Feeling her face contort, she digs her nails into her boot. Calmly, hazel eyes roam over her, starting from her one socked and one booted feet to her wrinkled uniform. Then stopping on the boot in her hands, a smirk crosses her face. Landing on the brown eyed girl's bewildered face; she walks into the room, closing the door behind her. For the first time, Santana notices the girl dragging a chair into the room. Keeping her eyes on the girl as she gets closer and closer, Santana recognizes her earrings in the girl's ears and her sunglasses hanging out of the pocket of her jacket.

Becoming enraged Santana puffs out her quick breaths through her nose, turning to keep her eyes on her as the pinkette puts the chair in front of her. Charlie seemed to know all the things the officer was discovering and let her. Backing away after situating the chair, Charlie crosses her arms.

"Put your shoe on and have a seat." Jerking her head back at the girl's tone, she stands still not knowing what to do. She really wanted to bash the smirk off the girl's face, but she knew she was in no position to do so, so she stayed still, awkwardly holding her boot.

The smirk falls from the girl's face and Santana feels a bit of terror sink into her as the girl suddenly yells.

"Sit the fuck down." Looking down at the chair, Santana gets down and turns the seat so she's facing the girl. Sitting down stiffly, she slides on her shoe and looks at the girl.

"Thank you. Now, I only have time to ask you a few questions before we got to the lab, but I want to let you know a few things." Staring, Santana gulped.

Holding up a painted and ringed finger the girl states, "First, we're all onto you, so playing the innocent card, isn't going to work. Second, you will answer all the questions I ask to the best of your ability because if you don't, me and two close friends of mine have some stuff that will blow your mind…literally and slowly, so if you don't want to experience the unimaginable pain of your brain melting, I'd just cooperate. Last, whatever you did to Brittany will be fixed and to be nice, I'll keep her away from you when she comes to…if you cooperate, I don't think you understand what you've really done, probably just taking orders but this stunt you pulled just landed you in a world of trouble. Do you understand, Santana?"

At her first name, the officer looks down. "Yeah."

"Good." Charlie walks to the desks and sits on top of it. Leaning with her hands on either side of her legs, she glares down at Santana. "Who sent you?"

Looking down at her cast, Santana admits. "My lieutenant sent me. His name is Louis Binker."

Without looking up she chokes, "Please don't kill him, he gets his orders from Sylvester."

"Sue Sylvester?" She spits. Glancing up, Santana nods.

"How the hell did you know where we were?"

"He just told me he got an anonymous lead. I-I really don't know."

"So you're really trying to sell me the amateur cop story?" Chuckling Charlie kicks Santana's chair to face her. "Look me in the eye."

Jumping, Santana furrows her eyebrows. "Yes...It's true." Looking in the girl's eyes she nods again.

The girl inspected her expression. "What did you give her?"

Santana stammers. "Nothing. I don't know what you mean."

Rolling her eyes the girl, reaches into her pocket and takes out a small black pill. Standing to her feet once again she holds it in front of Santana nose. "Listen, I'm not playing games. You have three seconds."

Sputtering and choking back sobs, Santana glances from the pill to her.

"Nothing. I swear. I don't know what you're talking about."

Ignoring her the girl, begins to count down.

"3."

"I swear. Please, believe me."

"2."

"…..I haven't given her anything."

"1." Knowing she had to lie to save her life. Santana breaks down.

"Fine…I-I'll tell you, but I'll have to write it down..Its too long to tell."

Stuffing the baggie into her pocket, Charlie opens her mouth to talk but a man in a wheelchair rolls by and calls. "In the van…now." Then rolls away, but not without casting a deep glare at Santana.

Grabbing the Latina by the back of her uniform, Charlie pulls her up and takes her to the door.

"We'll continue this, later."

Just like that, Santana was being led to another mysterious place in the hands of a criminal whom holds her life in their hands, once again.

Okie Dokie. I re-wrote this entire chapter like 6 times. Sorry for the long wait. I hope this made sense and everyone catches a gist of whats going on. Please comment. Tell me if you hated it or liked it or if something could be improved. I love constructive criticism. Don't be scured. :P Thanks to all who reviews on my first 2 chapters. I'll try to reply to all.


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